


Sergeant

by BarnesRogersVsTheWorld



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 14:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15820584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarnesRogersVsTheWorld/pseuds/BarnesRogersVsTheWorld
Summary: Bucky's leaving for a mission. You find it difficult to say goodbye.





	Sergeant

Dread is hot and cold at the same time.

It starts in your extremities - your toes, the tips of your fingers, the top of your head. Like a wave, it rolls through your body, settling along with worry in the pit of your stomach.

It's aching, unpleasant. It snaps your eyes open and pulls your restless mind back into the land of the living for the millionth time that night. 

Or morning, you think, it can’t be anything other than early morning, judging by the soft charcoal of the lightening night sky. Soon, much too soon, it would be filled with the orange of morning twilight. Nature’s alarm clock sent to call away the man beside you.

Bucky Barnes looks like an angel.

Curled onto his side facing you, sleep makes him younger. Smooths the lines of worry that so often crest his face. Pulls his full lips into an easy, relaxed crescent. His hair, inky in the dark of early morning, sprawls out beneath his head, fans across the soft flannel of his pillowcase.

You reach out to touch it, careful not to disturb him. There’s something very distinctly Bucky about the scent of citrus and sandalwood that lingers in his strands, and you find your brows drawing together, your mouth pulling into a distraught frown as you breathe it in.

With a slow shake of your head you look away, and from over Bucky's shoulder a pair of gentle blue eyes meet yours in the dim light.

 

“Okay?” Steve whispers, mouth raised in an understanding, unenthusiastic grin. His hair is disheveled, mussed across his forehead, but his eyes are wide. Bright. As if he hasn’t shut them once all night. 

Dramatic. You were both being so terribly dramatic.

“Why does he have to go alone?” Though they’re soft, quiet so as not to disrupt the sleeping soldier, your words teem with anxiety.

Steve notices. Reaches across for your hand and pulls it gently to his lips before letting go again.

“He won’t be alone,” he answers, “Nat will be with him.”

You make a face as if to say You know what I mean, and his smile widens. He does.

 

“And because we weren’t tapped to go?” He adds, “Because it’s a small recon? Because it makes the most sense for Buck and Nat to go? Because neither one of us is fluent in Russian?”

“Stop trying to talk sense to me when I want to be irrational.”

He chuckles, breathy and soft, “What do you want me to do? Market us as a trio? Together or nothing from now on? All of us or none of us?”

“Could you?” You speak eagerly into the dark.

“It would be ideal-” the throaty murmur startles you both, casts your attention back onto Bucky who shifts between you, rolling onto his back and stretching his arms over his head. 

His eyes flutter open, fall to you as he smiles.

 

“Sorry, Buck,” your whispered apology for waking him, “You should be sleeping.”

“Mmm,” he answers, reaching out for you and drawing you against him. He presses a kiss to your lips, “talk some more about how much you’ll miss me, first.”

And normally you’d laugh. Reply with something teasing and snarky about how he thinks too highly of himself. Something that would make him smile. But the thought of him leaving weighs heavy on your heart, a ticking alarm moments away from erupting into shrill ringing.

“I’ll go with you,” is all you manage to whisper back. And it’s so real, laced with love and a vulnerability so rare for you that Bucky's eyes immediately soften. He brings a hand to your face, pushes your hair behind your ear and cups your cheek.

 

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he says. Touched. Gentle. “It’s a real quick recon. Most of the time is for travel, anyway. Boring,” he shakes his head, mouth curving into a smile as he attempts to lighten the mood, “I, for one, will probably be way more interested in learning all the things you told Nat about Steve and I during your last mission. Which, by the way, wasn’t easy for either of us to see you off on, either.”

That was different, you want to protest. But other than the fierce desire to protect Bucky that you share with Steve, you knew you couldn’t really argue how.

 

A lethal assassin, and all you wanted to do was lock him up in his room and cuddle him into oblivion.

 

But Bucky wriggles his eyebrows at you now, and you laugh in spite of yourself, recalling Natasha’s teasing of Steve when you returned home from a recent mission with her. She’d alluded to ‘girl talk’ that had resulted in several new and interesting learnings about both Steve and Bucky. And in the time since, you’d sworn to them the conversation hadn’t actually happened, but giggles consumed you so much whenever the subject was broached that they still remained slightly suspicious.

Even now, as Bucky brings his mouth to yours again, there’s a tease in his words.

“Unless you wanna go ahead and share?” He says. 

 

“Well, you know, we obviously had to compare the effects of different serums on certain appendages,” you begin, your sudden willingness to play along lights Bucky’s expression with mirth, “And let’s just say Banner’s Hulk is very aptly named.”

You hold your hands an exaggerated length apart before you, and Bucky actually laughs out loud. Behind him, Steve mutters, “Did not need that image in my head.”

“Don’t worry,” you continue, sparing Steve a chuckle, “I spoke very highly of the two of you, too. But I had to one up her, so I told her how you’re both so good at talking the pants right off of me.”

Bucky’s smile is wide. Toothy and bright. He nips at your mouth as he says, “You’re so full of it.”

 

You raise your brows in challenge as he shifts away from you, turning to Steve. He presses Steve’s back flat into the mattress, climbs over him and braces his arms on either side of his broad shoulders.

Bucky smiles down at him. But when he speaks, it’s to you, “Steve’s idea of dirty talk was him saying ‘ _It’s not gonna suck itself_ ’ the first time I took his pants off.”

He grins at Steve as if to say Remember? Lowers himself down to exchange a brief peck on the lips.

 

Beneath him, the blonde pulls a face, cuts his eyes briefly to your laughing figure, “Excuse me if being sexually awakened by my best friend was a little panic inducing,” he says.

 

Bucky smirks, “Panic? You weren’t panicked. You were being a mouthy little bastard.” 

“I definitely believe that,” you gasp.

Steve makes a noise of protest at you, justifying to Bucky in a raised voice, “You asked me what to do!..?”

“Yeah? And I wasn’t exactly sexually inexperienced, either, but excuse me if the only dick I’d ever played with before that was my own,” Bucky drops his hips onto Steve, rolls against him as he adds, “There’s a learning curve.”

“ _Buck_ -“ his name is an exasperated chuckle on Steve’s lips.

“I like when you laugh like that,” Bucky murmurs, lowering the rest of his body onto Steve’s. Foreheads touch, then noses, and finally mouths as Bucky sweeps him into a heated kiss.

 

Slowly, the atmosphere shifts. From lighthearted and teasing to something more intimate. Sensual.

 

Steve’s hands raise, thread through Bucky’s hair and tug him into a deeper kiss. Bucky groans against his mouth, shifts to one side and glides metal fingers down his torso, curving them into the band of his sweatpants. His knee wedges an opening between Steve’s legs, parting them before rocking up and against his groin.

The contact causes Steve’s grip on Bucky to slacken. His arms to fall back onto the mattress, head tilting back into the pillows. Bucky’s mouth drops to Steve’s throat, tongue drawing a stripe up and over his Adam’s apple.

“ _Bucky_ -“ it’s a throaty whimper now, a half hearted plea as he echoes your words from earlier, “You should be sleeping.”

“I’d rather be doing this,” he answers, you can hear the smile in his response, “Consider it a parting gift.” 

 

His hand drifts even more, moving down to palm Steve through the front of his pants. His knee bucks against him again, and the resulting friction causes Steve to cry out, a gruff moan that sends desire rocketing straight to the pit of your stomach as you watch.

He moves off of Steve, sits up and shifts so his back rests against the headboard. He hauls Steve into a half seated position as well, pulls him close against his chest. 

Over Steve’s shoulder, Bucky’s eyes meet yours, “Take them off for me, doll,” he says to you, mouth sloping into a smirk as he whispers in Steve’s ear, “and don’t say anything stupid this time.”

Steve chokes a laugh, “You say enough- for...both of us,” he answers, all snark lost in the breathy tone of his arousal. 

 

Steve’s eyes fix yours in a heady stare as you comply with Bucky’s demand, fingers hooking into the band of Steve’s pants. He raises his hips slightly off the mattress to aid you as you drag them down and off his long, muscular legs.

You sit back onto your heels, admiring the Adonis like figure now sprawled naked before you. 

 

“ _Jesus,_ ” Bucky croaks, echoing your thoughts as he slides a hand down Steve’s chest and across the contours of his abs. And then lower, down the planed v of his hips, the sculpted arrow pointing directly where Steve so desperately wants him to touch. 

Bucky's stubbled jaw scrapes Steve’s neck, tongue dipping along the juncture where it meets his shoulder. Steve’s eyes are half lidded, his breath shallow pants as he juts his hips up in a futile attempt to gain some friction.

“Jerk,” Steve chokes, blowing out a strangled breath, his lips curve into a incensed simper, “unimaginable jerk.”

 

Bucky chuckles darkly, fingers teasing lightly at the patch of coarse blonde curls between Steve’s legs. Lust blown eyes lift to meet your own again, and Bucky draws his tongue along his lower lip, grins at you before whispering, “C’mere.”

Steve’s eyes open fully at the beckon. His hand juts out, fists into your shirt and tugs you forward onto him. His mouth meets yours in a bruising kiss, as if he can usurp Bucky’s control.

And Bucky laughs as cool metal fingers find the hand you have braced against Steve’s chest. He tugs it away, guides it down and wraps it firmly around Steve’s hardened shaft.

“Fuck-“ Steve jolts back, mouth detaching from yours in surprise at the sudden contact, “fuck,” he repeats, “shit.”

Bucky's hand closes over the top of yours. He guides it down in one firm stroke.

 

Two.

 

Three.

 

And Steve grunts, bucking his hips up to meet you. Satisfied, Bucky releases his grip on you, lets you take the lead as he continues his ministrations on Steve’s neck, along the shell of his ear.

Steve loses himself in the sensation, eyes screwed shut and jaw slackened in an expression of pure bliss. Desire pools in your core, slowly you shift down the bed.

He makes a noise of protest as your hand halts motion. A disapproving grumble that quickly turns into a broken moan as your wrap your lips around him instead. His hand rockets to your shoulder, grasping you hard as his head lulls back against Bucky’s chest.

He is loud. Unabashedly vocal as you work him, your name spilling from his lips in equal parts curse and praise- dark, throaty whimpers that send arousal coursing through you. Bucky pauses to watch, drawing his lip between his teeth as you meet his gaze during a particularly deliberate bob.

You can tell when Steve’s close. The steady rhythm of his hips begins to falter. His breathing becomes more shallow and erratic, his moans stifled and broken.

 

“Let me,” Bucky gasps, desire heavy on his tongue. You pull away from Steve, willingly following as he tugs you back to the head of the bed, pulls you into an ardent kiss as Bucky takes over with brisk, fervid strokes.

“Off,” Steve pants, tugging the hem of your shirt with trembling hands, “take it off.” 

Quickly you pull it up and over your head, casting it aside as calloused hands fall clumsily over the slope of your breasts.

“God,” he murmurs, eyes hazy as they settle onto you, “I’m not gonna last.” 

His hand slides down your body, hooks the band of your underwear. Fingers twist desperately into the delicate lace, straining the stitching. 

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky pleads in a strangled gasp, “Let go. For me…”

 

Steve’s breath falls in quick, shallow pants. His hair falls forward over his eyes, his tongue runs the length of his lower lip as he says shakily, “Fuck. Oh, my god. Buck. _Bucky_ -“

Heels dig into the mattress, and Steve lets go, one hand on you, the other desperately gripping the inside of Bucky’s toned thigh as he wrings every blissful bit of orgasm from Steve’s body.

Your underwear takes the brunt of the damage by the time he’s through, stretched beyond repair and torn at the seams. You click your tongue at Steve as you shimmy out of them. He doesn’t let  go, but helps you tug them down and off.

“I liked those,” you frown half heartedly as he meets your gaze with a lazy, satisfied smirk, heaving chest settling in the afterglow.

 

“Yeah, me too,” he says, and it’s all Brooklyn sass as he uses them to clean up the mess along his lower abdomen, “a lot.”

You smile, preparing a witty retort as his eyes dance down your body, but Bucky interrupts before you get the chance.

“Get over here,” he demands, and it’s gruff. Impatient and heady with desire, with want. He hauls you over Steve and onto his lap, straddling your legs over his and grasping tightly onto your hips. His mouth meets yours, teeth dragging your lower lip. You’re both so ready from Steve’s little show that he settles you onto him easily with a low, eager hiss.

Your entire body shudders at the sensation, your hands finding the back of his neck, gripping hard as you rock into him, taking him fully.

“Shit,” Bucky breathes, your name barely audible on his lips as he holds you close.

 

He makes love to you like he _needs_ you. Pressed hard against him, warm breath mingled with his own.

 

One hand slides into your hair, fingers twisting in the strands, tugging at them gently. Cool metal presses the small of your back, as if he can draw you closer than what you already are.

Lips sweep your shoulder. Warm, ragged breath spills across your skin. His hand guides you, rocks you against him in a slow, languid rhythm.

“Love you,” his words are hot, broken between stifled moans, “so much.”

And you can’t help but lose yourself in him. The silk of his own hair tangled in your fingers. The burn of his stubble against your skin. The warmth of his hard body pressed to yours. Everything is white hot and blinding, shaky and trembling in a haze of desire.

 

Everything is Bucky.

 

You don’t even realize his name is spilling from your lips in a fervent whisper until he redirects both hands to your hips again, grasps you there and slows your increasing rhythm.

He tips his head back, lust blown blue eyes peer into yours, “Easy,” he says, angling up to capture your lips with his own just as he tugs you forward with one deliberate thrust.

You cry out against his mouth, tipping it into a sated grin.

And suddenly Steve is behind you, pressing his broad chest to your back. His tongue sweeps the shell of your ear, and it’s almost too much to handle.

 

You swear you’ve died a heroes death. That being pressed between the two super soldiers is your heavenly reward, and you’re going to need more than an eternity to ever come close to tiring of it.

 

Bucky keeps your pace absurdly slow, “Eyes on me,” he says, voice dark and gravelly with need, “let me see you.”

And you do. You peer into those wintry blues, glittering with desire, as your release finally rolls over you in a surprising, heated wave of bliss. Your body shudders as you let your head fall to rest against the cool silver of his shoulder.

“Bucky,” you whimper, “god...Bucky-“

And the sound of his name on your lips is enough to send him over too, the deliberateness of his thrusts slipping into an untempered pace as he loses himself.

He tips his head back, letting you press greedy kisses and swipes of your tongue along the column of his throat as you both ride out the final throes of orgasm.

You stay there for a long moment, pressed between the two of them in a stifling heat that steals the air from the room. But it’s okay, you think, because if you could just stay this way forever then you’d find a way to never need oxygen again.

 

When you do finally move, leaning back against Steve to look at Bucky, soft orange of early morning daylight is filtering into the room, illuminating his handsome face as he smiles at both of you.

He leans forward, placing a kiss on Steve’s mouth first. “Before you say anything,” he says, eyes gleaming, “you’re welcome.”

Steve huffs a laugh at that, but you only smile. And it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

He notices, raises a hand to cup your cheek as the afterglow quickly fades from your body. Replaced with the biting reality that, at least for now, time with Bucky is up. 

He tucks your hair behind your ear, pressing a lingering kiss onto your lips. It’s soft and gentle. Everything you love about Bucky. Everything he safeguards from the world. Everything only you and Steve so intimately know.

When the kiss ends, he holds you close, whispers to you tenderly. A singular phrase in Russian. The bold language throaty and sensual on his lips. You’ve heard it enough to understand.

 

_I love you_ , he says, _from the bottom of my heart_.

  
  



End file.
